


Sunday's Child

by La_Temperanza



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorms, M/M, Moresomes, Orgy, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Temperanza/pseuds/La_Temperanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day, is bonny and blithe and good and gay."</i> Merlin likes to share with his dorm mates, depending on the day of the week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday's Child

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally written for cinnatart's "OPEN FANDOM & OPEN PAIRING KISS MEME 4.0"](http://cinnatart.livejournal.com/471762.html?thread=6016722#t6016722)
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> Also edited and reposted on [livejournal](http://latemperanza.livejournal.com/4165.html).

They need a bigger toaster.

This is the first thought that pops into Merlin’s mind as he shuffles into the shared kitchen, yawning loudly as he begins to prepare breakfast. When there’s seven boys in one household (seven _men_ , he amends in his head--he doesn’t care that Arthur continues to insist that Merlin is secretly a high-schooler, a girl, or both), a toaster with only four slots isn’t going to cut it.

Sure, he supposes they could always just buy an additional toaster, but what they really need is to get the wiring of the ancient dorm house fixed; last time Merlin had made the mistake of running more than one appliance at a time, a fuse had blown, and Arthur had griped at him for days on missing the end of the football match on the television. Merlin had just rolled his eyes, assuring Arthur that he could live without knowing the exact outcome of one game, and it wasn’t like Merlin did it on purpose after all.

(Of course, when he found out that Elyan had lost the paper he had been working on at the time due to the power outage, Merlin had secretly felt bad, even if it really hadn’t been his fault. No matter what Arthur said.)

The first pieces of toast pop up, and Merlin puts them on a covered plate to keep them warm before putting four more slices in. He’s just starting the eggs when Lance pads into the kitchen quietly, usually the first of the others to be up in the mornings.

Unlike Merlin, Lance actually chooses to be this awake this early, and he gives Merlin a small smile that’s too cheerful given the current time. Helping himself to a cup of coffee, he leans towards Merlin, giving him a soft kiss to the temple. “It smells wonderful, Merlin, thank you.”

Lance uses the same tone with Merlin often, his voice laced with gratitude and respect. When Merlin helps with a current coursework problem, even if it turns out they’re both rubbish at math. When Merlin speaks on his behalf, even if they end up in trouble because of it. When Merlin opens wide for him on certain nights with a complete sense of trust, even as they sink low into one another and the sheets that cover them.

Elyan and Leon pop into the kitchen next, tag-teaming Merlin as they grab him from both sides to give a mischievous peck to each of his cheeks. Their hair and bodies are still damp from the shower, and it only takes one whiff to realize they’ve used the same bodywash. A pang of jealousy and longing curls in Merlin’s gut as he wishes he could have joined him; last time he had been invited, it had only been the cold tile wall and the grip of their strong hands holding Merlin up, his knees turning to jelly as a result of their probing exploration of his body. 

He swats them away playfully (hoping they don’t notice the telltale flush on his face from reliving the memory), handing them both plates with eggs and toast that’s still fresh. He’s making yet another batch (and idly making a mental note that he’ll need to pick up another loaf of bread later today), when Gwaine stumbles into the room, mumbling something that sounds like a mixture of “coffee” and cursing.

“Take that first,” Merlin instructs, gesturing to the glass of water and bottle of aspirin he’s knowingly laid out on the counter. Gwaine grunts as he does what he’s told, managing a weak grin when Merlin rewards him with a cup of coffee for his efforts. “Merlin, have I told you lately how much I fucking love you?”

The kiss Gwaine gives Merlin as a thank you is open-mouthed and filthy, and entirely inappropriate for the kitchen table, but entirely in character for Gwaine. As much as he hates to do it, Merlin reluctantly pulls away after a few seconds, trying not to be distracted by the images of the two of them using the same kitchen table for eating something besides food once or twice. 

Instead, Merlin focuses on frying the bacon next, and the scent is apparently what gets Percy to lumber in, rubbing last remnants of sleep from his eyes with the tip of one of his massive fingers. When he realizes Merlin’s remembered his fondness for vegetarian bacon (honestly, how the man had grown to be so large without eating meat is a complete mystery), he sweeps Merlin in his arms, peppering the smaller man’s face and neck with wet, sloppy kisses. 

“Percy, put me down!” Merlin shouts with a laugh (because, no matter what the others say, Merlin definitely does _not_ squeal), even though he secretly relishes being held like this. Relishes the possibility of Percy running giant hands up and down his body, forming him into a mess of pliant and willing goo before Percy pushes his way inside with a surprising tenderness that always gets Merlin teary-eyed. 

Nearly all of them have eaten or are finishing their breakfast (except Merlin, who will probably eat later), and yet there’s one person missing. Even though he knows the answer, Merlin asks the question anyways: “Where’s Arthur?”

“The princess is probably catching up on his beauty sleep,” Gwaine snorts, holding his head in his hands still, but apparently starting to recover from his hangover. Looking up from his dishes that he’s already washing in the sink, Lance tilts his head to the side. “Want me to go get him?”

“No, you shouldn’t be late just because the ass doesn’t want to get out of bed.” Merlin sighs as he opens up the fridge and pulls out the bagged lunches he had made last night, names written on them in Merlin’s messy scrawl. It’s cheesy (and often makes Merlin feel like he’s their actual mother), but they never seemed to complain, grateful to have a home-cooked meal instead of spending money in the campus cafeteria.

Grabbing a piece of toast for himself as he goes upstairs (his stomach was grumbling too loudly to wait until longer), Merlin munches it as he raps his hand smartly against Arthur’s door, opening it when there’s no response. “Arthur, wake up.”

“Mmph,” is Arthur’s only answer, which could probably translate into “Go away, I’m sleeping” or “Try to drag me from this bed, and I will have you, your family, your friends, and even your dog killed.”

Good thing Merlin’s learned not to take Arthur’s threats seriously, especially ones he’s made while still half-asleep. “You’re going to be late.”

Shoving the rest of his toast into his mouth in an indelicate fashion, Merlin moves to the edge of the bed, tugging on the comforter and groaning when he finds Arthur is unconsciously fighting back. If they had been both awake, Arthur could easily overpower Merlin with his strength, but this time Merlin has the upper hand. Finally managing to pull the blanket off, Merlin lets out a victorious cheer.

Only for it to be strangled in his throat when he notices Arthur is completely stark naked.

No matter how many times he takes it in, the sight of Arthur’s nude body never fails to take Merlin’s breath away. He was half-hard already from the affections of the others, but now his erection strains painfully against the plaid fabric of his pajama bottoms, and Merlin decides to employ a different tactic.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers as he trails his lips across Arthur’s bare shoulder, traveling upwards to suck at the spot where the collar bone and neck meet. He hears Arthur let out a soft moan of approval, and Merlin grins before darting his tongue out to lap at bronzed skin. His hands roam freely over the muscles in Arthur’s chest, arms, abdomen, and legs, his long fingers tracing invisible patterns only he knows he has left behind. “Arthur.”

Too caught up in having such access to Arthur’s body he wasn’t normally given, Merlin yelps in surprise when he’s suddenly yanked down onto the bed. Arthur is now awake and straddling him, no embarrassment of being unclothed showing in his handsome features. “ _Mer_ lin, just what are you doing?”

“…Trying to get you up?” Merlin replies sheepishly, thrusting his hips upward to try and emphasize his point. The pupils in Arthur’s eyes grow large, and he growls as he leans down towards Merlin, freezing in place when he sees the clock on the bedside table. “…Oh _fuck_!”

To say Merlin is disappointed when Arthur scrambles off him is an understatement, but at the moment, he has other things to worry about. Like ducking as Arthur blindly throws things about the room in search for clean clothes while he yells, “Why the hell didn’t you wake me up sooner?!”

“You don’t think I tried?” Merlin counters, rolling his eyes as he drops his head back against the pillow, turning to inhale Arthur’s scent. Unlike the others, Merlin doesn’t have classes until the afternoon, and can laze around in bed for the rest of the morning. “Why do you have an alarm clock if you’re not going to use it, Arthur?”

“You are the worst dorm mother _ever_ ,” Arthur mutters, and Merlin is not sure what he wants to argue about first; the fact that he’s a dorm father and not a mother, no matter what domesticated tasks he does for the dorm house. Or the fact that he’s not even officially in the position, but was more than willing to help out in exchange for a place to live. Or the fact that making sure Arthur woke up on time for class still isn’t really his responsibility.

Merlin doesn’t get to decide which point he’ll bring up first, because Arthur is straddling him once more, just with the unfortunate addition of clothes this time. His calloused thumb brushes away a smattering of butter and crumbs from the corner of Merlin’s mouth. “You are such a messy eater. You better not have gotten any crumbs in my bed.”

“You’d make me clean it up anyways if I did,” Merlin murmurs, reaching up to interlock his hands behind Arthur’s neck in an attempt to pull him down. Getting the hint, Arthur crushes his mouth down against Merlin’s, pulling slightly back as he sucks at Merlin’s bottom lip, letting it go with a juicy, dirty pop. “…Damn it, Merlin, why do you have taste so good when I’m already running late?”

“Well, if you had gotten up earlier when you were _supposed_ to…” Trailing off, Merlin then lightly shoves Arthur away with a face-splitting grin. “I’ll see you later tonight; it’s Friday after all.”

Eyes widening in recognition, Arthur nods once, giving another toe-curling kiss before hurrying to rush out the bedroom. A shout of “Thanks!“ comes from downstairs when he finds the lunch Merlin made for him, followed by the slam of the front door.

Merlin continues to lie there a little longer, his head still reeling with delight and erection pulsing with need. Reaching down, he frees himself from his pajama bottoms and boxers, stroking rapidly until he comes with a pierced cry, Arthur’s name on his lips.

It’s only fitting, for Friday nights are when he spends time in Arthur’s bed, and in Arthur’s bed _only_. If this display of possessiveness bothers Merlin (although it never does), it turns out he doesn’t have to wait long for things to change.

For after all, tomorrow is Saturday, and soon all seven of them would sprawl out on the pillows and blankets they draped on the living room floor, wearing nothing but red-lipped smiles and wet, eager mouths pressing against their skin.


End file.
